


Sheep Riding and Freefalling

by cgner



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 17:37:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7473489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cgner/pseuds/cgner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It does not take five people to drive a car across the country, and yet somehow Lily's ended up with four boys heading down the A702.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sheep Riding and Freefalling

**Author's Note:**

> Zeina (coconutcrowns on tumblr) added some detailed tags about road trip fics to a post that were too tantalizing to pass up, so here's a little something based on them. Many of the fun things in this fic were her idea! Plus she drew the amazing artwork!
> 
> Thanks to Karaline for her beta work, to Todd and Lindsey for looking it over and giving suggestions, and to positivelyberry for suggesting sheep. :)

It does not take five people to drive a car across the country. Five is not the punchline, and the question was not a joke.

It was not, in fact, even a question.

“Oh, I can’t, actually,” Lily had said. “I’ve got to drive to Cornwall this weekend.”

It was a statement. It was _not_ an invitation.

And yet somehow she’s ended up with four boys heading down the A702.

The temperature veers between freezing and sweltering as James keeps fiddling with the temperature controls.

He’s leaning forward in his seat to study an air vent, his face only a few inches away from the dashboard, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Fascinating,” he breathes.

“Put your seatbelt on or I will pull this car over,” Lily says.

“Spoilsport.” But he sits back and rebuckles up all the same.

“Can I drive yet?” Sirius says.

“Absolutely not.” She shifts gears to overtake another car. “I’m not handing over a pile of scrap metal.”

James lifts his chin. “I bet I’m an ace driver.”

“Seatbelt _on_ ,” Lily says.

“Are we there yet?” Peter asks.

Remus sighs. “We haven’t even left Scotland.”

Nine hours to go.

\--

She never should have let them come with. But James had pleaded—“Riding in a car is a lifelong _dream_ ”—and Moody had agreed it would be safer if Lily had company, even if this isn’t at all Order business, and James hadn’t even _asked_ if his mates could come, they’d all just showed up, and she’d expected Sirius, maybe, but not all four of them.

But once they’ve all settled in, Peter squished in the middle in the back, and they all understand the buttons within their immediate vicinity, the ride actually becomes halfway enjoyable.

For about twenty minutes, anyway, until someone needs to use the bathroom and they pull over at a petrol station.

Sirius and James are bickering over which snacks to spend their limited Muggle funds on—chocolate, Remus adds from another aisle—and Lily stands waiting at the door, tapping her foot, the sun beating down on her back through the glass door.

And it’s not that she hates fun, or road trips, but this particular journey….

She sighs and watches the boys file out of the shop in front of her, like schoolchildren she’s somehow ended up being responsible for. She hasn’t been around all four of them at once since they left Hogwarts a couple months ago, and they can just be so… _them_.

“First one to the car gets front seat,” James calls, and bolts off.

Sirius and Remus and Peter take off after him, and Lily finds herself smiling a little. She and Petunia used to play the same game, after all. But now they can never race for the front seat because they have no more parents to drive them around.

By the time she reaches the car, the four of them are arguing over whether James or Sirius touched the door handle first, and whether it was touching the car or door handle first that counts.

“Handle, obviously,” James says.

“You said car, not _handle_.”

“Hoisted by your own petard,” Remus tells James.

“The petard is your lack of specific rules,” Sirius adds.

“Given our lack of petards and our inability to break out our wands,” James says, mouth curving into a devilish grin, “reckon we’ll have to settle this the Muggle way.”

Sirius mirrors his grin. “Reckon so.”

Sirius tries to shove James away from the door, almost testing out Muggle violence. James considers the push, and then shoves back, and then they’re full-on roughhousing, and Lily reaches out to grab James’s shoulder—they don’t have time for this if they’re going to make it before nightfall—and Sirius shoves him hard in the chest, forcing James back a step, his shoulders barreling into Lily, and then she’s falling.

A sharp pain tears through her wrist as it slams onto the pavement behind her.

She curses and sits up, pulling her scraped hands up in front of her.

James drops to his knees. “Oh, fuck, sorry!”

“Shit, sorry, Lily,” Sirius says.

James’s hands encircle her wrists and she cries out softly, tugging her left hand back to cradle it by her chest.

“Is it bad?” James asks.

“I’m f-fine.” She is. She _is_.

Except for the fact that her vision is starting to blur and she is _not_ crying because that is pathetic. It’s probably just a sprain but these _boys_.

She’d planned out her trip perfectly, a nice drive across the country, a nice long drive _alone_ in which she’d have plenty of time to cry and moan and generally be miserable.

Remus clears his throat. “Have you ever tried a Coke, Sirius?”

“No,” Sirius says quickly. “Buy me some in the shop?”

“Absolutely.”

The other boys scurry off, and James sits down cross-legged on the ground in front of her, still holding onto her good hand.

“If it’s anything more than scraped,” he says, half-frowning, “I’m more liable to ruin your hand than to fix it.”

That worry line of concern, tucked right there above the bridge of his glasses, sets her off, and then she’s bawling.

“Fuck, did I break it?” he asks.

She shakes her head and sniffles, then ducks her head so her hair falls in front of her face. He lets go of her hand and wraps his arms around her shoulders, drawing her in, and she lets him.

“This isn’t just about the hand, is it?” he says softly.

“No,” she manages, and buries her face in his shoulder.

He strokes her hair and murmurs nice things in her ear and he’s such a _prat_. That’s just like him, boyish and playful one minute, sweet and caring the next.

It’d be a lot easier to hate him if he couldn’t so easily switch between the two.

\--

The other boys return once James has helped her to her feet. Her face is as clean as it can get from her sleeve, but James’s shirt still has a damp spot on the shoulder.

“Any of you know how to mend a sprained wrist?” James asks them.

“Er, not properly, no,” Remus says. “I’d rather avoid it if possible.”

“It’s fine.” Lily fishes the keys out of her pocket with her good hand. “I can still drive.”

This proves patently untrue the moment she tries to grasp the gear stick.

A pained noise forces its way through her mouth, and she lets go immediately.

James’s face lights up. “I can drive.”

“No,” she says. “I can do it—”

But she regards the gear stick, and then her hand, and then sighs.

“Remus,” she says, “any chance you’ve driven before?”

\--

“No, you put down the—no, James, not like—”

“I’ve got it this time—”

“Your _other_ foot—”

“Which _other_ , just say left or right, that’s way more useful—”

“The clutch, you’ve got to hit the clutch, there are only so many pedals I can’t believe you can’t find it—”

“That’s a stupid term anyway, who invented that, _clutch_ —”

“See, that jerking right there, that’s exactly what we _don’t_ want if we don’t want to break the car—”

“I don’t know, think it makes it more fun that way—”

“Peter? Any chance you know how to drive?”

\--

Sirius proves more adept.

Everything’s relative, though, and he’s more of a chimpanzee at the wheel, where James might as well be a jellyfish.

“Don’t see how what he’s doing is that much different than what I was doing,” James mutters from the backseat.

Lily’s good hand is going numb from grasping her seatbelt, her wounded one resting in her lap and resisting the urge to grab onto something, _anything_ for balance as Sirius careens around another corner.

_“Thatwasastopsign_ ,” she says.

“Oh, is that what that meant?” Sirius says. “They should label it more clearly.”

He’s having far too much fun with this.

She squeezes her eyes shut and swallows. “Turn left up here to get onto the highway.”

\--

“At my funeral next week,” she says matter-of-factly, as Sirius narrowly avoids nicking another car he’s overtaken, “please don’t let them put up lilies.”

“D’you want me to drive or not?”

“Not. Obviously.”

“Cheers.”

“All things equal,” Remus says, “I’d prefer to leave this car in one piece.”

“Is that criticism I hear?” Sirius says. “Criticism from the blokes too afraid to give driving a go?”

“Merely a statement of fact.”

Peter gasps as Sirius slams on the brakes. “I’m with Moony. Alive, please.”

“Et tu, Wormtail?”

“Et me,” James says. “Er, just maybe slow down just a little?”

“Amateurs,” Sirius scoffs.

He slows down.

Barely.

\--

“What are you doing, Sirius, we’re not supposed to exit for ages—”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, we are.”

“We’re fine on petrol—”

“This is very true. Well deduced.”

She sends Sirius a flat look, and he volleys back with an innocent one.

He’s planning something.

Scheming, as James would say.

She manages not to say anything until he starts pulling into a hospital car park.

“Sirius—”

“Your wrist,” James says, as though this settles it.

Lily half-turns in her seat to find a row of determined faces.

She sinks back into her seat. “Bunch of mutineers, you are,” she mutters. “Should drop you all off at the hospital and drive off without you.”

\--

An hour and a half later she emerges into the summer sun with a splint on her wrist and four exuberant boys.

“Did you see the _needles_?” James says. “They put those _in_ people?”

“Barbarians,” Sirius agrees.

Peter nods. “I saw them do it! When you two ran off they stabbed a bloke in the heart because he was having—oh, what was it?”

“Allergic reaction,” Remus says.

“Yeah!”

James’s eyes go wide. “Wicked.”

When they’ve almost reached the car, Lily stops to tie her shoes, and by the time she stands up again, Peter has occupied the front seat.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “You can’t honestly mean to put me in the back seat of my own car.”

“Not yours for much longer, though, is it?” Sirius says before climbing into the driver’s seat.

James is sitting in the middle in the back, and this is undoubtedly one of their schemes, but one she’s willing to play along with.

“Suppose I could get a nap in,” she says, and slides in behind Peter. “Besides, when Sirius finally crashes, I’ll be in the safest seat.”

\--

No chance of a nap, though.

Not when now she’s got nothing to do but stare out the window at the green fields and small towns that whip by.

Nothing for her to do but remember why she’s got to drive this bloody car to Falmouth.

Petunia doesn’t have her license, and Lily has nowhere to put it, and her mum’s friend offered to take it, and Lily is a terrible, awful person for resenting her parents for putting her in this position.

She resents them for a lot of things, among them dying.

Even if it was not at all their fault.

She interlocks her fingers and twists them, until her sprained wrist protests.

James’s hand settles on hers, and she looks up to see him giving her a crooked smile. She lets herself grasp his hand. It’s warm, and a bit rough, and exactly what she needs.

She can’t bear to risk seeing Remus’s or Sirius’s or Peter’s reactions, though, or even James’s, really, so she stares out the window.

His hand keeps her thoughts in the car, in the moment, which is a much safer place to be, Sirius’s driving and her wrist injury aside.

Then the inevitable happens.

“What’s this button do?” Peter says, and presses a knob.

\--

“DANCING QUEEN.” James then bellows out a string of incoherent noises that somewhat resemble the subsequent lyrics.

At least his pitch is fairly on.

Sirius bobs his head, Remus smiles, and Peter joins in with James (also mangling the words).

Lily can’t help but laugh.

“You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life,” she sings. “See that girl, watch that scene, digging the dancing queen.”

James and Peter chime in on the last bit as soon as they realize the words dancing queen have come up again. They’ve got quite good at that piece, at least.

James runs his shoulder into hers, beaming, and she laughs.

“You’re a teaser, you turn ‘em on,” she continues.

He winks at her, not rakishly but subtly, and the rest of the world shuts out, and it’s just her and James, sharing a moment, no car or friends or music around them.

Then he waggles his eyebrows and she can’t sing anymore, partially out of laughter, partially because her heart is acting like Sirius is driving, racing ahead while she clings to whatever she can.

And then she doesn’t want to cling, and lets go.

She smiles at him, he smiles back, and they join together for the last iteration of “digging the dancing queen.”

\--

They get through Hotel California (“Why would anyone stay in this hotel, it sounds awful,” James says. “I heard one about the Ritz once, sounds loads nicer there.”) and Somebody to Love (Sirius does the best at reaching the high notes, at least of the boys, mostly because he doesn’t hold back) before Peter realizes he can change the station.

The radio skips to pop, more pop, some local news, and then—

“Stop,” Sirius says. “Go back.”

Peter fiddles with the knob until a vaguely discordant, dark song comes back on. Someone laughs madly in the background, fading in and out, in between verses.

A guitar riff builds, and Sirius keeps glancing down at the radio, his mouth hanging open a bit, his eyebrows drawn together.

Voices harmonize, there’s talk of the moon, the laughter returns, and the song fades out.

“Play it again,” Sirius demands.

“Er, Lily?” Peter says.

“That’s not how it works on the radio.”

“Make it work that way,” Sirius says.

“I’m a witch, not a magician.”

An advertisement comes on for some new line of Hoovers, and Sirius pounds his hand on the dashboard. “Moony, d’you know a spell to make it play again?”

“It’s called a record, I believe.”

“Doesn’t sound like Latin to me,” Sirius says doubtfully.

Lily muffles her laugh, and when James raises his eyebrows at her, she whispers an explanation in his ear.

He forces a laugh.

He doesn’t get it, but that’s all right.

She’ll show him some time, she promises herself. Play him everything from Electric Light Orchestra to Puttin’ on the Ritz.

He’ll like that. She knows he will.

\--

After they’ve stopped at a café for a quick bite to eat, James asks her a million and one questions about all sorts of buildings they pass by, and radio advertisements, and road signs. She gives different responses: some serious, some made-up (he calls her on it), some joking. Remus and Peter and Sirius chime in with their questions, and she and Remus explain all sorts of Muggle curiosities, like the electrical wires that stretch alongside the road.

Eventually James’s questions peter off and his head starts to droop, only for him to jerk awake once he’s on the verge of falling forward.

Then he falls backwards instead, his hair crumpling against the top of the backseat.

Even though his mouth hangs open, a line of drool starts to trail down the side of his chin, and his glasses sit askew, he somehow manages to only look adorable.

After a few minutes his head starts to slide until it rests against Lily’s shoulder.

Remus flashes her a knowing look, and once he’s turned back to the window, she lets herself smile, just for herself. James’s hand has also slid sideways to rest against her thigh. His face is bony—sharper features than hers, than any of his mates’—but somehow it isn’t uncomfortable.

If only they were awake, and alone, and his hand wandered even further.

She lets herself daydream, watching the trees zip by in a green blur. Come Together plays on the radio, the afternoon sun douses the inside of the car with drowsiness, and it’s not long before she’s nodding off, too.

\--

She dreams of racing James across a green field overlooking the ocean and her younger self dancing around the house with Petunia and her parents, her lovely parents, bickering warmly in the kitchen.

Consciousness returns in waves, first of the lack of warmth on her shoulder, then the music on the radio—Sex Pistols, but not one of the songs she likes—and finally the chatter around her.

“But why would anyone want anarchy?” Peter asks.

“Because the man is trying to keep us down, obviously,” Sirius says.

Lily takes a deep breath and sighs, twisting a bit to stretch out her back. James has already awoken, and he’s tossing something gold between his hands.

“That’s not your Snitch, is it?” she asks.

One corner of his mouth pulls back. “Well, yeah.” He holds it up between two fingers. “But I’ve turned it off.”

“It occurred to you that that might actually be a really terrible idea?”

“As a matter of fact, it did.”

They share a smile, and Lily has to turn back to the window before she gives herself away.

After a few moments she catches sight of a road sign.

“Sirius,” she says slowly. “Where are we?”

“Well, we’re not in a lake, and we’re not in a field, so I’d say we’re on the road.”

“This is the M6, not the M5.”

“Yeah, but it’s an M.”

“That’s not how it works.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment.

“Are we lost?” James asks. “Have you got us _lost_ , Padfoot?”

Another road sign flies by. “ _Cambridge_ ,” she says in a strangled voice. “We’re almost to _Cambridge_?”

“I hear that’s a lovely town,” Sirius says.

“Really?” James asks. “Who d’you hear that from?”

“Oh, you know, people.”

“How long was I asleep?” Lily asks.

Remus and James exchange a look.

“We thought you could use the rest,” James starts to say.

They meant well. Of course they did.

She rubs two fingers against her temple. “Right. Pull over as soon as you can. Peter, hand me the map from the glove compartment.”

\--

She nearly revokes Sirius’s driving privileges as punishment, but it’s not really his fault, and they will actually all die if James drives, so she’s got no choice.

They find a petrol station, and Lily studies the map while Sirius tries to master the petrol pump.

By the time she folds up the map, Sirius has got the petrol going, and he leans back against the car, arms resting across his chest, his hair catching in the breeze. A few sheep bleat in a nearby field.

“Having now seen many other cars,” Sirius announces, “this one’s ugly as shit. You should buy a motorcycle. We passed a flock of them while you were sleeping.”

“I’m not buying a new car.” Lily tosses the map into the car through the open window. “I don’t need one.”

“A consideration when you buy your new car,” he continues, “is the steering wheel. I looked at some of the other cars on the road and they have circular ones, not square.”

“That’s because they’re not shit cars.”

He lets out a bark of laughter.

“As it happens,” she says, “this car is also more aerodynamic backwards than forwards.”

His mouth opens.

“If you think that’s an invitation to try it out,” she adds, “you are delusional.”

“Maybe that was an intentional design choice,” he says. “Handy for all those scenarios where you need to escape backwards.”

“Name one instance where that’s been true, car or not.”

“Well, this one time…but Marauder secrets, Lily. Afraid it’s off-limits.”

“You are so full of shit.”

“So’s your car.”

“No, it’s a piece of shit, not full of shit.” She runs a hand over the side of the car. “My dad loved it, piece of shit that it is.”

“At least your dad only had bad taste in cars, instead of politics.”

“Not so sure about that. He was Conservative.”

“Shitty politics, awful siblings. Great families, ours.”

She’s never thought of her family that way, even if it’s technically true.

“Yeah,” she says. “Family’s great until they want to deprive other people of their rights.” It feels treacherous speaking of them that way, so she adds, “But they don’t want to kill anyone, so I can’t complain, really.”

And that was probably too low, really.

He ducks his chin.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “That was a really shit thing to say.”

“Not as shit as this car.” He smiles, but it looks more like a grimace. “No harm done, really, seeing as it’s true and all.”

“I doubt you need the reminder.”

“I do prefer to forget they exist most days,” he muses. “I’m sorry about your parents, by the way. Not sorry that they shit taste in cars, sorry that you lost them.”

“Thanks.”

At least she could have relied on her parents, if they were alive. Her dad had had different politics but he’d never have kicked her out or disowned her.

He’d never have supported a politician who wanted to kill other people.

Sirius’s head is still ducked, his expression fixed, and he hasn’t noticed that the petrol pump has stopped.

“You’ve got the Potters now,” she says. “They’re fantastic.”

He looks up at her. “That they are, Evans. That they are.” It seems like he might say something else there, but he doesn’t, instead turning back to the pump.

She hangs there for a moment longer, waiting to see if he continues his thought, but he doesn’t, and she leaves to go pay.

\--

She rings her mum’s friend from the pay phone inside to catch her up on their delay.

“I’m so sorry to hear you’re running a bit behind, dear,” Barbara says. “I was making a roast, but I’ll heat some up in the oven when you’ve got in. What—hold on, dear. No, Bernard, she’s running behind. Some idiot mate of hers got them lost. No, I know. She said nine at the earliest. No, I know. I _know_. We’ll just have to come back early, it’s fine. It’s _fine.”_

“Sorry?” Lily said.

“Never you mind him. Bernard’s all in a fuss because we were going to go to a concert, but we’d much rather stay in with you. You will be staying the night, won’t you? You and your mates. There’s no train leaving at that hour.”

“Oh, no, please don’t stay in on my account.” Lily twirls the phone cord around her finger and pulls until her fingers turn white. “I’ll drop the car off and we’ll get a, er, hotel room, and I’ll see you in the morning before we catch the train.”

“How will you get to the hotel?”

“Oh. Er.” Apparate is the correct answer, but an unacceptable one, obviously. “I meant we’ll stay at a hotel and bring you the car in the morning.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, stay with us—”

“No, it’s fine, there are five of us, we can split the cost, it’s no trouble. I insist. I’m already dumping a car on you.”

“Lily, dear.”

“No, really. It’ll, er, prolong our fun.”

“I do know a little something about that,” Barbara says, and Lily can hear her smile. “Bernard! You owe Lily and her mates breakfast. Because they’re waiting overnight for us, you twat! So we can go to the concert! Yes, Lily, breakfast will be on us. Ring us in the morning. First thing, all right? And we’ll drive you to the train station.”

“Thank you so much, Barbara. It’ll be a relief to get rid of this car.”

“Lily, dear,” Barbara says. “I’m so sorry we weren’t able to make the funeral.”

“Oh, you’re so far away, it was completely fine—”

“Your mum did more for me than anyone else in my life. If I could have been there, I would have, but my surgery—well, you know. So if it helps you at all to dump this car on me, then I’ll take it with open arms.”

Lily swallows. “Right. Well. Thanks.”

“We’ll see you in the morning, dear. Safe travels, now.”

Lily hangs up, her hand lingering on the phone long after she’s done, fingers clenching around the receiver.

She’s not going to cry here.

She’s really not.

So what if she’s blinking profusely, that means nothing, that’s completely normal—

“Lily?”

She clears her throat, lets go of the phone, and throws on a smile before turning to face Peter. “Yeah?”

“You all right?”

“Yeah, grand.”

He studies her for a moment, and then he’s hugging her.

His hair’s in her nose and his arms are around her shoulders and she can’t not hug back. She’s only human.

And she needs it.

Fuck it all, she does need it.

She squeezes him and lets go. “Thanks, Peter.”

\--

“OI, LILY.”

James is not in the car.

James is not near the car.

No, those would be reasonable things for someone to do, but this is James Potter.

James Potter does not wait in the car.

James Potter hops fences and wanders into a field full of sheep.

Of course.

“HAVE YOU EVER TRIED TO RIDE A SHEEP?”

Lily stares at him, then turns back to Sirius, who’s hopped up to sit on the hood of the car.

He shrugs and pulls a paperback out of his back pocket.

“Would you get your faux-husband back here so we can leave?” she asks.

Sirius glances up for a moment and turns back to his book, smirking. “No need.”

She spins around.

A barking sheepdog has appeared in the distance, bolting across the field. James shrieks, flails his arms, and begins a mad dash to the car.

The sheepdog has nearly caught up to him by the time he launches himself over the fence.

If she didn’t have to spend several more hours in the car with him, she’d hope that he tripped and fell into a pile of sheep shit, but luck is with James.

And with her, really. She wrinkles her nose as the wind picks up for a moment.

James runs a hand through his hair as he strolls up, feigning nonchalance. “Ready to go then, eh?”

Sirius and Lily share a look, and then look at James, and then laugh madly.

Through the open windows, she hears Peter and Remus losing it, too, and James stands there with his fists on his hips.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” he says.

Lily loops her arm through his and drags him to the back seat. “Come on, sheep rider.”

“That’s a real thing, you know. I read about it in a comic.”

“Of course it is, James. Of course it is.”

\--

They stop for dinner outside Birmingham, and this time when they get back on the road, Lily ensures that Sirius stays on the correct M toward Cornwall.

The sun slides down until it’s shining right into the car, and Remus throws up a spell to dim out the light through the window.

“No magic,” she reminds him.

“No one was watching,” James says.

“We literally just passed a police car.”

James shrugs.

“I apologize, Lily,” Remus says. “I wasn’t thinking. You know, I’ve been wondering—”

“Hang on a minute.” Lily eyes him, and then James, and then Sirius. “You know, Sirius drives worse than a half-blind old man.”

“S’pose you could’ve said fully blind,” Sirius says, “so thanks for that.”

“I’m just having a hard time believing that not a single police officer has pulled us over.”

“I’ve got a trustworthy look about me.”

She narrows her eyes. “Or you’ve bespelled my car.”

“We’d never do such a thing.”

“Sirius.”

“Tampering with someone else’s property is a serious allegation,” James says. “Are you sure you want to lob that around? You could really hurt someone.”

“I will lob it around with pleasure. D’you have any idea of the effects spells could have on machinery?”

“It’s worked so far, hasn’t it?”

“Just because you haven’t noticed you’re about to step off a cliff doesn’t mean you won’t fall when you do.”

“Of course not.” James scoffs. “I wouldn’t fall because I’d have my broom with me. I’m always prepared.”

“Unless you’re getting chased by a sheepdog,” Remus adds.

“Well, obviously that was an unanticipated situation.”

“Obviously,” Peter says, and Sirius grins at him.

\--

A nine-hour trip sounded reasonable. Lily would’ve taken loads of breaks and sung along to the radio and—well, most everything they’ve done so far.

Maybe nine hours would have been reasonable, but eleven, as it turns out, is not.

The radio still plays, but no one sings. No one asks questions. James slumps over in his seat, and then he straightens back up, and then he tries to cross his legs but there’s no room.

Peter snores lightly from the front seat, and Remus’s fingers tap alongside the car door.

Their lethargy is to be expected, and it’s really not problematic.

Except for Sirius’s, of course.

By this point Lily barely even flinches when Sirius slams on the brakes to avoid hitting another car because he can’t judge distance, but by the time the fifth driver whales on their horn for shoddy driving, the conclusion is clear.

“We need to find a hotel,” Lily says.

Sirius waves a dismissive hand at her. “It’s only a couple hours away. I’m fine.”

“You’re not, actually. I don’t want to die in Devon, thanks.”

“That’d make an excellent novel title,” James says. “Don’t Die in Devon.”

“I’m not going to kill us,” Sirius says, “and I resent the implication.”

Remus cocks his head. “Implication?”

“Judgment. Condemnation. Whatever.”

“All in favor of finding a hotel and continuing in the morning?” Lily asks.

Everyone but Sirius chimes in with an aye.

He grumbles, “Mutineers,” but still takes the next exit.

\--

“Right.” Lily sighs and grabs her purse off the hotel desk. “Thanks for checking.”

They wander out of the lobby, empty-handed for the third time.

“Bloody music festival.” James kicks one of the car’s tires.

“No need to take it out on the Allegro.” Sirius strokes the car with one hand before opening the driver’s door. “She’s not to blame here.”

He makes his position even clearer by sniping about other drivers on the road, all apparently lost tourists, and at one point narrowly avoids a tumble into the ditch.

“Just get us to the next hotel, all right?” Lily says tightly. “Just keep us alive for five more minutes. Ten, maybe.”

“We could always leave the car somewhere for the evening,” Remus says, “Apparate back to headquarters, and return in the morning.”

“No.” Her hands tighten into fists on her lap. “We can’t.”

Remus nods. “All right.”

The next hotel, one with a flickering, bare light bulb outside the main door, has one room available. One measly room with one bed.

“We’ll take it,” Lily says.

The boy manning the deck starts to protest when he realizes that all five of them intend to sleep in one room, but Sirius nicks the key out of his hands and walks away, grabbing Peter to keep him company.

Lily gives the receptionist an apologetic look. “So, how much was it, then?”

James insists on paying—it’s not her fault they need the room, after all—but he’s forgotten that he has almost no Muggle money.

Lily and Remus pay together, and James promises to pay her back.

She knows he will.

Sirius has left the door to the room hanging open, and he and Peter sit cross-legged on the bed inside, staring hopelessly at the television screen.

“I feel like I’m supposed to look at it,” Sirius says, “but what does it do?”

Lily turns on the telly and watches Sirius’s face light up with it.

“Tiny people in a box!” James drops to his knees and leans in toward the television. “Are they slaves?”

“I’m sure they’re paid, Prongs,” Sirius says.

Remus and Lily share a look.

Peter considers the television. “They’ve probably got a union. Everyone’s got a union these days.”

“Sirius, you should take the bed,” Lily says. “You’ve got to drive in the morning. The rest of us can Transfigure something.”

“The bed holds two people, though, right?” Peter asks.

James wrenches his attention from the screen. “Luck of the draw?”

Remus casts a quick spell on all of them, speaks another word, and yellow light briefly surrounds Lily and Sirius.

“Try to keep your hands off me, yeah?” Sirius’s eyes glaze over as his eyes start sliding back to the screen.

“Noted, no strangulation,” Lily says, but if he hears her, he doesn’t show it, too lost in Fawlty Towers. “Right, then. I’m going for a walk.”

“I think I read in Muggles Studies that you can channel the television.” Peter turns to Remus. “Can you show us how to channel the television?”

Sirius frowns. “Channeling? Isn’t that what you do with ghosts? Are we channeling tiny ghosts, Moony?”

“I can’t channel it, no,” Remus says delicately, “but I can certainly change the channel for you.”

Lily laughs once and turns to head out the door.

“I’ll go with.”

She glances back; James has stood up, although his eyes keep darting back to the television.

“No need,” she says. “I’m perfectly capable of defending myself.”

“Not for protection. Only it’ll be nice to stretch out.”

If it had been any of the other boys, she would’ve insisted that they stay behind, but this is James. Being with him isn’t like being with other people. It’s like being alone, really, only better.

James reaches for his wand when they step out into darkness, but Lily stills his hand with hers.

“No magic, remember? Don’t worry, I’ve got a torch in the boot.”

James stares at her.

“It makes sense,” she tells him. “Trust me.”

\--

She lets James hold the torch as they wander down the single-lane road, even though he keeps flicking it about in fascination. The light passes over a squirrel, sending him scampering into a bush, and glints off a few empty bottles dumped in the ditch.

They walk along an ungroomed hedge in silence for a while before hopping up onto the worn train tracks that run along the water.

“That’s not the ocean, is it?” James asks.

“No, just a river. We’re really nearby, though.”

“Smells like it.”

She nods, and then remembers he can’t see it.

He doesn’t inquire further, though, and they walk in silence for a while, James on the tracks, Lily on the wild grass next to them.

“You feeling all right?” he asks.

“I’ve been better.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

She sends him a sidelong glance. “The war?”

He tries to walk on top of the rail itself, arms stretched out at his sides. “I feel like a complete arse, but I haven’t thought about it almost all day, and it’s….”

“It’s strange.”

“And brilliant. I forgot for a minute—more than a minute—what’s waiting for us tomorrow.”

“So did I.”

“So we’re both terrible people.” He wobbles, the torch light beam jerking around as he catches his balance.

“That doesn’t make us terrible people. Everyone needs a break, now and then.”

“This is a dead awful reason to have to take a break.”

“Clearly I’d prefer a happier impetus, but if it were any happier we probably couldn’t have come.”

“No. Probably not.”

He hops off the rail and back onto the wooden slats. “Sorry we made this an overnight trip.”

“I’m not too bothered, really. It’s just one night, a breakfast—shit, I’ve got to ring Barbara first thing in the morning—and then back to it.”

“I miss Hogwarts. It felt like being back today. For me, anyway.”

“Not that I remember singing ABBA with you and Peter in Transfiguration, but it felt more like Hogwarts than…than anything since.”

They talked on patrols, of course. And before and after Prefect meetings, their own meetings, and the meetings with Dumbledore and McGonagall. They talked sometimes after class or, that one time, by themselves in the common room, when they both found themselves incapable of sleeping.

But there’s a new weight in the air tonight.

“Two months,” he says in a hollow voice.

“Just two.”

She wraps her arms across her chest against the faint breeze coming in off the river. “How are we going to make it…as long as we have to?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“I’m going to need another road trip in two months.”

“I’m not sure I’ll last two.”

He draws in a sharp breath. “Lily—”

“No, I mean, mentally. Not—not that I’ll be dead.”

“You’re not allowed to die on me.”

“Well, then I’ll try to die on top of someone else when the time comes.”

“That’s not really funny.”

“No. I know.”

And then there’s only the soft scuffle of his feet on the slats, and the gentle brush of her shoes through dewy grass, and they walk on.

\--

They’re far away from the hotel now, with only the occasional owl hoot or car headlights to keep them company, and the reflection of the moon in the river.

“We should turn back eventually,” James says.

“Eventually.”

“We’ve got to get up early so we can have breakfast with your mum’s friend.”

The cover of darkness makes everything safe.

He makes everything safe.

“Since I’ve already admitted to being a terrible person,” she says, “I don’t really fancy having breakfast with them.”

“Too raw?”

“No. I’m only…. They’ll want to talk about Mum.”

“And you don’t want to talk about her?”

“I do. I really, really do. But not with her.” Other, more obvious people top that list. Other, more obvious people within close physical proximity. “I haven’t seen her since maybe fourth year? But to Barbara, it’s only been a few years, and she’s known me since I was born….”

“But you don’t know her.”

“Exactly.”

His shoulder runs into hers, and she catches a hint of a sad smile on his shadowed face.

“Well, we’ll be there to distract her,” he says.

“Thanks.”

“We’re dead good at distraction.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

She clears her throat, and he ruffles his hair, fingers digging in and clinging on for a moment.

“Would you tell me about your mum?” he asks. “You don’t have to, I just thought, if you get it out now, then maybe…I dunno.”

She could kiss him.

Or a lot more than that, honestly.

She tells him all about her parents, how they’d been married at 18 and never regretted it. How her mum had tried to challenge herself every year to do something that terrified her, culminating in scuba diving on her fortieth birthday and skydiving on her forty-fifth.

She tells him about her dad, how he’d been dragged along on every single one of her mother’s adventures. How he’d always slipped them sweets when their mum wasn’t looking, and then when she caught them, she’d demand some, too. How her Dad had changed careers late in life because the former had become obsolete, and the whole family had uprooted themselves to Edinburgh for him.

How much he’d adored that stupid Allegro.

“I know Barbara will take care of the car,” Lily says. “Other people…I’m not so sure.”

“Worth the drive, then, eh?”

She thinks, but does not say, that dumping the car has turned out to be one of a few different reasons it’s been worth it, and it’s not even close to being the most important.

\--

They do turn back soon, but there’s still a long stretch between them and the hotel, and somehow Apparating feels like cheating. Like it would ruin the gloriously magic-free, war-free, Death-Eater-free day.

“Thanks for letting us tag along,” James says.

“Thanks for tagging along.”

“Did we make things better or worse?”

“Better. You always make things better.”

He doesn’t respond, and her chest tightens.

“I mean,” she says.

“D’you really feel that way?”

He hasn’t stopped walking, and neither has she. If they stop they’ll have to admit that the direction of the conversation means something more than everything else they’ve discussed, and that’ll only make it more unbearable.

She stares straight ahead and swallows. “Of course.”

“Could’ve fooled me once or twice. Not today, though, just…generally.”

“Not in a long time.”

He switches the torch to his other hand, the one further away from her. “D’you think there are any giant squid in this river?”

“Er, no?”

“Sorry, I just—you said something about a squid, once. That you’d rather go out with one than with me.”

“When did I say that?”

“Fifth year.”

“Oh. Sorry.” She doesn’t remember saying that, but it sounds like something she’d do.

“It’s fine,” he says. “I mean, back then—”

“I’ve picked you over the squid right now, haven’t I?”

“This isn’t a date, though.” His voice lilts up ever so slightly at the end, teasing at a question.

They’re dancing on a thread hanging invisibly between them, and any moment either one of them could snap it. Both of them have to hold on tight to each other, it can’t be just one or the other, or they’ll freefall.

Freefall is a foreign concept to Lily, who’s always had magic to catch her.

There’s no magic here, no safety net.

But Lily thinks of her mother, how absolutely petrified she’d been before getting into that plane, and how ecstatic she and Dad had been when they ran up to Lily and Petunia after their jump, and Lily says, “It could be. If you like.”

If there were a moment in their journey that would have merited stopping in their tracks, this would have been it.

James keeps walking.

The ground rushes up toward Lily, but James reaches out to save her.

“I would,” he says. “I’d love it.”

“All right,” her mouth says.

They walk on.

After a minute her brain starts up again.

Her hand swings wide and brushes alongside his, and his fingers wrap around hers, and her heart flutters.

She can feel a hint of his pulse in his veins, and it matches hers.

His smile matches hers, too, when she glances at him, a shy, half-smile that blooms into a full-scale grin.

She laughs a bit, and then he does, too, and she squeezes his hand and he squeezes back.

Then he lets out a loud laugh. “We’re on a date, but I already know you’re going to end up in bed with my best mate tonight.”

“Yes, but I’m going to strangle him in my sleep, so then you can push the body aside and climb in with me.”

He does stop in his tracks now, turning toward her, and uses his grip on Lily’s hand to pull her in close. His mouth has curved into a cocksure grin, and it sets her off laughing again.

Only a few inches separate them.

“I’d better get my kiss in now,” he says, “before we get too close and Sirius tries to off you before you strangle him.”

“I can take him.”

“I know you can. He doesn’t, though, and more fool him.”

She grins back at him, and then he leans in and kisses her.

Worth the trip, indeed.

\--

Midnight draws near by the time they approach the hotel room, feet aching but minds abuzz. The front door proves to be an ineffective barrier against the volume-cranked telly inside – some action film, based on the rapid gunfire.

While Sirius shouts something at the film, Lily and James pause outside the door. She grabs his other hand, pulls him around to face her, and leans in to kiss him again.

His smile hasn’t dropped since she first reached out for his hand, and it remains even now, elation with a tinge of disbelief.

“How d’you intend to share the news with your mates?” she asks, her face still close enough that she can feel him breathing.

“Haven’t thought about it.”

“Liar.”

“No, really. I’ve had some other things on my mind, see.”

“Oh, yes. World poverty.”

“Homelessness.”

“Pollution.”

“Exactly. Been working on all those things the last bit of our walk. Nearly solved all of them but now we’re here, and I’m tired, so I’ll get back to solving them tomorrow.”

She kisses him one more time, chastely now, and steps back. “Come on.”

She pulls him inside with one hand.

Sirius, Remus, and Peter have gathered on the bed. Remus blankly watches the screen, but Sirius and Peter sit on the edge of the mattress, eyes agog as some action hero punches a villain in the face.

Only Remus properly looks at Lily and James when they enter. His eyes linger on their intertwined hands, and he nods and turns back to the screen.

“I suppose Sirius has been kicked out of the bed, then,” he says.

“Hmm?” Sirius tears his attention away and catches sight of Lily and James. “Damn it, Prongs, you couldn’t wait another night? I was looking forward to sleeping in this grotty bed.”

“Transfigure yourself a grotty bed,” James says.

Peter glimpses at them, blushes, and turns back to the screen. “So long as you don’t, er, do anything in bed.”

“We were planning on dancing the foxtrot,” Lily says, “but now that you’ve asked.”

James makes a noise of protest. “I thought we’d agreed on the waltz.”

“No dancing in bed.” Sirius hops off the bed in question. “Besides, I think this bed might fall apart if you tried.”

“Magic,” James supplies.

“Exactly,” Lily says. “Go Conjure us some toothbrushes, will you?”

“Oh, no magic, she says,” Sirius grumbles as he trudges into the bathroom. “Unless it’s for dental hygiene, then it’s acceptable….”

\--

Sirius and James Transfigure some of the pillows into plush cots that look a sight nicer than the bed she and James share ( _she and James are sharing a bed_ , her mind keeps reminding her, as though she’s possibly forgotten). The boys bicker over who gets which cot, which also ends up getting decided by luck of the draw, and settle in for the night.

She and James stand on either side of the bed, neither quite looking at the other, both still fully-dressed.

James gestures toward the bed. “Er, ladies first.”

A spell flies out from Sirius’s cot and glides along James’s back, knocking him forward onto the mattress.

“I’ve got another spell ready if you don’t get into bed already,” Sirius says. “Go to sleep already so I can drive some more.”

James pushes his chest up and smiles sheepishly at Lily as he crawls under the sheets.

She climbs into bed next to him, and then they are in bed together.

It’s good, actually, that they have been barred from dancing. They both know what’s not going to happen tonight.

“Good night,” she says quietly.

“Good night.”

James turns out the light and there’s a gentle click as he sets his glasses on the table.

She rolls onto her side to face away from him. If she’s not looking at him, she won’t think about kissing him.

Much.

He rustles next to her, the sheets pulling as he moves onto one side.

Her mind starts to wander, soon reaching the outer edges of sleep.

James rolls onto his other side.

And then back again.

She shifts onto her other side and shoots him a flat look.

They haven’t drawn the curtains, and the bulb outside casts just enough light into the room to half-illuminate James’s face, almost a stranger’s face without his glasses. He looks older, somehow.

He gives her a crooked smile.

She’d whisper to him now if there weren’t three of his mates in the room. Ask him what’s the matter, the bed, or the sheets, or the war, or what.

She settles for raising an eyebrow at him and mouths, _What_?

_You_ , he mouths back.

She smashes her face into the pillow to hide her blush.

_Sleep_ , she mouths. _Tomorrow._

_Tomorrow_ , he replies.

His hand slides between the sheets and brushes against her side, following it up to find her arm and then her hand. He nudges his fingers in between hers, almost exploring, and then holds on.

Previous boyfriends have got further than grazing over clothing, but James’s touch is somehow more intimate, leaving sparks in its wake through her pajamas.

If only they had this hotel room to themselves.

She nods at him and rolls onto her back. The bed really is shit, almost as shit as her car, but she could sleep on a rock tonight, provided James’s hand were entwined with hers.

There’s more to do in the morning, but everything seems manageable, so long as there is hand-holding with James. And kissing. Loads more kissing.

And singing, and dancing, and even sheep-riding. She would love to see James try to ride a sheep. He’d probably manage it somehow.

She may have let go, but she’s not in freefall. Not with James, anyway.

Like he said, he’s always prepared. He’ll just take them away on his broom.

And flying, she thinks, as her mind starts to drift off, is infinitely better than falling.


End file.
